


Moor of Joy

by shichan



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Tags to be added, courtesans!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-07-29 04:19:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7669825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shichan/pseuds/shichan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>This is what our love is</i>, said one of the eldest geisha years ago, <i>just a fantasy. You should never lose yourself: men’s words are just a maze of lies.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. World of Lies

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to regret this *cries*  
> Well, this is going to be my first longfic and I hope you'll be able to enjoy it. This project should have 4/5 chapters; I already wrote the first two but since English isn't my native language it takes me a really long time to write, so my updates will probably be a bit irregular!  
> If you see any mistakes feel free to tell me! Also, I read several articles and books about Yoshiwara but there might be some inaccuracies.  
> Last but not least I aged the characters a bit, but the age difference between them is the same as always; also, I decided to use they/them for Arashi. 
> 
> Special thanks to mofumanju because she's a really patient beta ;_; <3

 

Yoshiwara is full of delightful voices, full of the sound of _getas_ that step on the streets or go in and out of the teahouses overlooking on the main street. The  sound of _shamisen_ plays graciously to cheer men’s souls who grant themselves a deserved rest, a moment of distraction from their everyday lives. If someone pays great attention it’s easy to hear the sound of laughs and of clapping hands that accompanies the dances of young _geisha_ s beyond well-lighted windows.  
There’s a _sakura_ tree in full bloom: it adorns the ground with its petals that starts to fall down the branches; when Yoshiwara falls into darkness and sunrise draws near, the moonlight makes the petals so pale that they look like snow. Sometimes Tsukasa lingers, peeking outside the window; during warmer seasons he rests outside when the Yumenosaki house of pleasures turns its lights off and everything turns silent, a few hour before dawn. Sometimes Tsukasa stays out enough to look at the street without being seen and he listens to the silence unknown to the morning world, with the moon and the stars as the only audience of an illusion – a reality so beautiful, made of nocturnal insects in summer or a gentle breeze in spring, doesn’t exist. Tsukasa’s world is made of bright colours, of foreign essence scents and white face powder; his world has the sound of a _shamisen_ , of pleasant _geisha_ ’s voices and of graceful bodies who move with delicate precision. This kind of world lets fragments of a dream that lasts just until everybody falls asleep: once in deep sleep, men forget and when they wake up they’re once again the same people too distant from the world Tsukasa is used to see.  
A sound draws his attention, and makes him turn towards the room’s door, making him stop looking at the cherry-blossom tree he was staring at until that moment; in the dim light, Arashi goes in and looks at him smiling, their lips gently curved. Tsukasa can discern that kind of smile from the ones the other addresses to their clients, perfect yet impersonal. Arashi doesn’t keep from scolding him for being still up, or because he’s in a private area where he doesn’t belong when their House is closed; the blond stretches a hand towards Tsukasa, touches a red lock of hair lightly, but he lets it slip without holding it for too long, so that their gesture looks like a strange stroke: «You should rest, Tsukasa-chan.» Arashi speaks in a whisper, so light that Tsukasa finds it hard to hear. He sees Arashi lowering their hand, letting it rest along his hip; then Arashi turns towards the window and, quietly resting in that position, they give Tsukasa an implicit imperative to go back to his room. He nods with a brief smile, then goes away.

  
The first time Tsukasa has crossed the entrance of what it would have been his home – and that, at the same time, was a kind of “home” very different from the one he was born in –, he was nine and his mind was too much adult-like for his age: his mother wasn’t holding his hand, instead she let him walk by himself, with his back straight and his head held tight. He had the posture of a young master but was dressed like the humblest child of the street; his violet eyes had met the figure of a woman with an elegant and refined appearance, but with a slight smell of _sake_ that lingered on her. Tsukasa still remembers how he turned up his nose trying to not be caught, because it would have been impolite; his mother had been clear: “ _it’s important to be liked by this person, Tsukasa_.”  
At that time he never suspected how much that sentence would have been the most important rule of all his life.  
His mother didn’t exactly say him goodbye, but Tsukasa never expected her to do so; the beautiful woman looked at him, nodded pleased and said something to his mother about how Tsukasa would have been perfectly fine in that place with her. Then, Tsukasa’s mother went away; she didn’t turn, and he simply entered the hall. He let the beautiful woman guide him, up through some narrow staircases and then along a hallway with so many rooms that Tsukasa couldn’t memorize for some time. She guided him along the way and then stopped in front of a door, inviting him to enter first: Tsukasa remembers how he was feeling slightly afraid, but he still opened that door as he was supposed to, his tiny hands reaching the _shoji_ and accompanying it until it slid half open, almost without a single sound. The room was dark, except for a tiny light coming from a candle: there were some _futon_ , no more than three: one of them was empty, while the other two were already occupied by people sleeping or simply sitting on them. The one almost in the corner was occupied a kid Tsukasa already knew: he often had seen him playing with the son of the Fushimi family, Yuzuru; he had supposed they were childhood friends or something like it but never asked about it. On the other _futon_ there was a kid, still awake: they looked at Tsukasa immediately when they heard the _shoji_ slide, and Tsukasa took some time to observe them. He noticed their blonde hair before anything else, but then the other smiled at him: it was the thing that surprised Tsukasa the most, because his mother never mentioned the chance to make friends there. The gentle smile on the other’s lips, though, made him wish it was possible; _maybe_ – he thought – _if I’m good enough at what they’ll teach me, this kid will be my friend_.  
The beautiful woman behind him chuckled a little, catching Tsukasa’s attention: he turned towards her, and she was pointing at the room.  
«You should enter. Tomorrow you’ll start to clean with the others. Arashi, show him where to sleep.»  
«Where’s Souma-chan?»  
«He will be back soon.» she answered with a gentle voice; it made Tsukasa think about the sweet fragrance some women seemed to like – sometimes it was a little nauseating tough.  
She closed the door, leaving them together in the dark, candles’ dim light allowing them to see each other at least. Tsukasa hesitated: suddenly he felt unsure of everything around him, even though his mother had already explained him what he needed to know. He felt guilty too; he had promised to be a good kid and to do his best. His hands trembled a little, so he clenched his tiny punches along his body, looking at the floor. He turned his gaze to the other when he felt – and saw – a hand holding one of his own: Arashi was in front of him, smiling gently, and their hands were warm.  
«I’m Arashi, what’s your name?»  
«I’m Suou. Suou Tsukasa.» he answered, still unsure about the correct way to address to the other. Arashi looked surprised, but then smiled again, almost apologetically: «You should just use your name, Tsukasa-chan.»  
«Why?»  
«Because nobody will be interested in your last name anymore.» Arashi replied, probably without thinking much about it, but for Tsukasa it was quite shocking: his family name was the most important thing to him now – and the only one that belonged to him. Or so he thought.  
«But you don’t have to worry. Tsukasa is a beautiful name.» the other tried to cheer him up, and tightened their hold on the younger’s hand: «Here, Tsukasa-chan. We can share the bed.»  
That night was the first time he slept in together with another person: Arashi held his hand the whole time until Tsukasa fell asleep and the next morning, waking up, he remembers Arashi’s smile was the first thing he saw.  
Now several years have passed since their meeting, and Tsukasa still feels the deepest affection towards the other; it was Arashi who played the role of the older brother – well, older _sister_ in fact –, who explained him how to be perfect for what their guests come looking for in Yoshiwara: the faint trace of a dreamy love that only last a night, only between a room’s walls.  
_This is what our love is_ , said one of the eldest _geisha_ years ago, _just a fantasy. You should never lose yourself: men’s words are just a maze of lies._  
There are nights in which she appears in his dreams just to remind him how utterly agonizing is the fate for those who fall in love in Yoshiwara.

  
When Tsukasa had joined their group Tori had felt happy and upset at the same time: now that Tsukasa was the new entry, Tori had thought that he was right feeling a sort of superiority. But then he had found out the story of the Suou family and had felt a strange feeling of solidarity because they are the same – their families were both rich, and when they went bankrupt their parents sold them without any second thought. Then Tsukasa had started to study there and Tori had thought he’d be a disaster but Tsukasa had learnt day by day and now he is able to entertain their guests; Tori isn’t. He can’t handle people who look down on him and smile politely to them like they’ve told him the best compliment, he can’t stand how they stink of alcohol when they drink too much and he isn’t able to pretend he’s happy to be with them – he fails as a “lover for a night”, so when he looks at Tsukasa and how everything he does  just seems perfect Tori hates him. It’s as if the ex Suou is telling him “ _you can’t do it and you’ll never be able to_ ”. So he often yells at everyone: the more they’re kind to him, the more he wants to scream at their faces about how hypocrite they are and how much he hates all of them, and Yoshiwara too; he _doesn’t believe_ in anything – not in his new “family”, not in the bunch of lies they tell nights and days. Just because he’s not their guest but a “co-worker”, that doesn’t mean they’re honest with him. So he just continues to wave between the urge to believe and his need to keep his eyes open: reality is a cruel thing. Heroes don’t exist. Heroes don’t exist. Heroes don’t exist.  
«Young master» he hears Yuzuru’s voice and immediately sulks. It’s stupid to let him use that epithet, especially because now it’s Yuzuru the one with more family power between them; still, Tori doesn’t correct him. He kind of likes how Yuzuru still addresses him the same way he used to when they were just children. It’s not unpleasant to be remembered of the past because the other never does it while looking down on him; still, Tori feels kind of frustrated at the same time, and that’s the main reason why he sulks every time, looking at his childhood friend (who’s now his “client”) like he expects some sort of apology from him. Yuzuru is kind – Tori knows it better than anyone else, because the Fushimi’s firstborn spends his own money just to “buy” him and, in the end, he doesn’t do anything at all. At least, anything sex-related.  
…Let’s just say Yuzuru is stupid because he pays to be able to talk to him and nothing else.  
«You should drink your tea more graciously.» Yuzuru says.  
«Are you a teacher or what?» Tori replies, still sulking «Because if you want to bore me, then leave.»  
He’s not angry because of Yuzuru, but today ma’am has said something about him being like a doll – and it wasn’t a compliment, Tori knows it. It’s just a way to say he only has his good looking on his side. It sucks, and every time Yuzuru pays to keep him company he feels miserable: his childhood friend has to use money on him because nobody would do the same and well, yes, Yuzuru’s a better company than any other man in that stupid house of pleasures, but it still makes him angry. Is Yuzuru pitying him? Or does he like him enough to spend money on him?  
_But he never gets angry at me_ , Tori reminds himself when he’s about to forget everything except for the other being with him, _he should, because he’s paying and I’m being impolite_. There are times, like now, when Yuzuru looks at him with that expression that seems to suggest how sorry he is and Tori doesn’t stand it, he doesn’t _understand_ it, because what should Yuzuru be sorry about? It’s not his fault the Himemiya family went bankrupt and sold their son. And certainly it’s not his fault that Tori is unable to compromise enough to be good at his work.  
_Is he sorry because we just talk?_ , he has asked himself sometimes, especially in the past. But Yuzuru never seems to feel desire towards him, or the urge to touch him or kiss him. Tori doesn’t understand him and he’s frustrated – some days, like today, he’d like to be strong enough to yell at Yuzuru how useless he is, and how much he hates him, and there is no way he needs his stupid company or friendship so the other should really stop with all that kindness; Yoshiwara isn’t kind at all.  
«I don’t want to bore you,» Yuzuru says, but his eyes are on Tori and his voice is steady «still, you should do things you’ve studied about right. Because someone used their precious time to teach you.» he continues, and then the look in his eyes softens or so it seems: «I know you’re perfectly capable of doing so, Young master. You’re pretty, after all.»  
Tori remembers how Yuzuru’s always be the kind of person able to speak his mind, whoever is in front of him; he knows way to well that Yuzuru’s has an unique sense of justice and that he feels responsible about everyone and everything, so it’s really not surprising how the other scolds him, or gives him compliments.  
«Of course I’m pretty, you stupid son of a merchant!» Tori exclaims, full of himself «When it comes to beauties I’m the best of all here so yeah, tell me something I don’t know.» he praises himself, and crosses his legs, assuming a position that’s not beautiful or polite or gracious at all – he’s a living dichotomy in the way he looks and the way he behaves. He doesn’t believe it, but that’s all he is: beautiful, with a delicate frame, with eyes so clear they remember the sky (even if they’re not light blue) and silky hair.  
_So even Yuzuru can’t see me.,_ he says himself, so sometimes he tries to show his real self to the only person who seems to care about him in spite of everything with all his might.  
But Tori is perfect for Yoshiwara: he’s a living lie.

  
Kuro rarely finds himself lost in thoughts. He’s used to be disciplined both in his body and mind since he was young and didn’t even know how to hold a sword, let alone the fine art of swordsmanship. His master took a liking on him because of his sincere attitude and his desire of knowledge, and there hasn’t been a single day Kuro hasn’t been grateful to that strict, admirable man: Tsukinaga Yoshikuni has taught him not only how to handle the sword, but how to live always being faithful to his believes as well. He’s the reason why Kuro is still very proud about being a samurai, no matter how it’ll be seen one day or if the first western people coming to Japan look at him like some funny fellow  - well, it _does_ matter, since he would consider their laughing as an insult to his master, and that’s something Kuro will never allow to anyone.  
Still, Tsukinaga Yoshikuni taught him how to forget about everything around him, to forget even _himself_ so that he could feel the sword as a part of his own body; Kuro doesn’t waver, he never does. His heart is still, he’s not touched by fear or insecurities. However the young man in front of him is testing his calm. The colours of his hair and eyes are proof of half of his origin – the western one – but Kuroo can see some resemblances with Yoshikuni in his features. Tsukinaga Leo has been introduced to him by Yoshikuni just before his master died: with death approaching him, he decided to meet again with his nephew. Kuro never asked about the details, but he knows the story about Yoshikuni’s only daughter, more or less. She eloped with an European man his father never approved and that was it. Nobody knows if at that time she was already pregnant, but even if she’d have tried to come back, Yoshikuni would have probably disowned her and her child, if nothing worse than that.  
Maybe – no, certainly – she knew it. So she never set foot on her homeland again, and her father never got to meet his only heir until now.  
Kuro is not too sure about the reason why his master decided to entrust Leo to him; frankly speaking he doesn’t think to be suited enough to such a thing, but he owes Yoshikuni so much he couldn’t possibly say no.  
«You know,» the other starts to say and Kuro brings himself to look at him once again. They’re in the Tsukinaga’s _dojo_ , sitting while facing each other and Leo gives off this feeling of someone who’s completely at ease with the place he’s seen for the first time one week ago: «my mother told me about this country, and all the things related to the old man.» he says. Kuro raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t say anything. There isn’t a single thing about Leo that hides the fact he’s grown up far away from Japan: not the way he sits, that doesn’t even remotely remember a good posture, nor the way he calls Yoshikuni and, above all, his behavior. Kuro knows the young man is eighteen, maybe nineteen years old but he could swear, Leo doesn’t keep up with his age.  
And it’s not a compliment.  
If anything, Kuro finds him disrespectful the way kids are: they know nothing about the world and they simply live without a care, doing stupid things they’ll feel embarrassed about in the future. Leo too, but what Kuro finds more… difficult to handle is that Tsukinaga doesn’t seem aware about his grandfather’s death or his inheritance. It’s disturbing, in several ways.  
«How was he?» Leo asks, and it’s surprising. From the day he arrived the young man has been going with the flow, following every request of the man who’s supposed to be his family but that has never been with him during the most important moments of his life. Kuro doesn’t know if it should be considered Yoshikuni’s fault or his daughter’s; still, he knows that Leo – who was just a kid – isn’t responsible. However he followed his grandfather’s orders, talked to him like it was nothing, like he’s used to it. Kuro has thought that Leo resented Yoshikuni, but decided to behave, because the other was dying; still, Tsukinaga doesn’t seem the kind of person who is prone to please others just because. At some point Kuro was sure Leo hated the man he respected so much and now, destabilizing him once again, the other is asking about Yoshikuni.  
«He was a righteous man.» Kuro replies «He taught me everything I know. He was my master, my guide and also a father figure to me.» he allows himself to show his feelings, because he’s pretty sure it’s the best way to let Leo understand the side of Yoshikuni that he couldn’t get to know.  
Leo looks at him, and while he’s standing up he smiles – his lips do, at least; his eyes, however, don’t match his expression. It’s as if Leo sees something that Kuro will never see in his whole life.  
«’m sorry for asking.» Leo admits, and Kuro is confused because sure, he’s sad for his master’s death, but he knows life isn’t eternal.  
«You don’t have to.» he replies «It doesn’t make me sad to talk about my master.» he adds, just to be clear. And then Leo chuckles: «I know. I’m sorry I asked someone who only knew the best of my gramps, ‘cause you’d never be able to answer me. But well, my question was pretty difficult, right?» Leo admits, stretching himself, not used to stay still in a rigid position. Kuro frowns. He doesn’t like what he sees in the other’s gaze.  
«You asked about—»  
«Yeah, about gramps.» Leo confirms, while the _shoji_ slides to the right, and now he can easily leave the _dojo_ ; but Leo looks at him, over his shoulder: «What I meant was “how was the man who let my mother leave his home and live all alone while raising a child he never asked nothing about, just to write a letter when he’s dying because nobody’s by his side and death scares even the bravest of all men?”»  
Kuro is so surprised by his words he hasn’t the time to scold him or do anything for what is nothing but an insult to his master; yet he knows, by instinct, what makes Tsukinaga Leo look like a child: he’s full of his own truths and he once felt so abandoned and so alone that he’ll never be able to forget. He’s learnt to hate before anything else.

Arashi looks at their own reflection, ready to be an impartial judge of what they see. Blond hair are perfectly smooth, the skin soothing as expected; purple eyes look back at them, full of too many things. It’s okay, though, customers always compliment Arashi for their eyes. Even if at the beginning Arashi thought they would’ve been a problem – “ _your eyes never lie_ ”, ma’am said once, when Arashi was much younger and then once again when they were fourteen, “ _I can always tell what you’re feeling. That’s not good in this world_ ”.  
Arashi has learnt, but it took a while; still, now the person ma’am warned that time has seen so many things, and known so many people – good and bad, beautiful and ugly –, has heard so many stories it feels like the whole world has come to Yoshiwara at least once. And after all, there’s that saying, right? If you want to hide a tree, do it in a forest. So if Arashi has too many feelings they can’t hide, those feelings should be mixed with so many other things that it’ll be impossible to tell them apart from the rest. Arashi smiles at the mirror, then looks at the hair comb a customer has given to them: it has the shape of a flower, a delicate, light blue colour.  
Behind them the _shoji_ slides; Arashi doesn’t need to gaze at the mirror to know who is entering the room, quietly closing the door behind him and sitting without a word. There’s just one person who does this every time, so when Arashi faces him, their purple eyes have that sweet glimpse that appears only in front of the other – and with Arashi’s cute _kohai_. Purple eyes meet golden ones, and Adonis bows his head a little.  
«Ara, Adonis-chan» it’s the first thing Arashi says, smiling at him. Adonis is what, personally, Arashi would call “a good catch”: based on rumors though, or to be honest, on the chit-chatting Arashi often hears while sharing rooms with _geishas_ , Adonis is considered otherwise. It doesn’t matter if his golden eyes are one of the most beautiful things Arashi’s ever seen, or if his tanned skin makes the contrast so unbelievably charming. Nor it does matter to these women if Adonis’ voice is low and _warm_ , let alone how hard-working he is. They don’t see any of that.  
Arashi knows better. About Adonis coming there, knocking at the door without the slightest idea of what Yoshiwara was – _is_ ; Arashi remembers an eight years old boy unable to write or read in Japanese, who talked in a funny way and with a strong accent. If ma’am hadn’t ordered him to, Adonis wouldn’t have learnt anything; still, the woman told him “ _you’ll work here, so the least you can do is learn_ ”. Maybe she was a bit too harsh back then, but Adonis never badmouthed her. Arashi remembers the tiny, timid voice that pronounced: “ _Thank you_ ”.  
The other _geishas_ simply don’t understand.  
«Are we ready?» Arashi asks, looking at Adonis as the other offers his hand to help the blond to stand up; Arashi accepts his offer, takes his hand – it’s warm and big. It gives a pretty good feeling.  
«Won’t you wear it?» Adonis asks, a little movement of his head to point at the hair comb Arashi totally forgot about. A chuckle fills the room: «Am I not pretty without it?»  
«You are.» he says, catching Arashi off guard. Adonis is as straightforward as a child, he doesn’t seem embarrassed in moments like this. There’s no problem, just… Arashi still has to find a way to deal with the whole “skipped-beat” stuff. And with the way Arashi is been looked at by the other – so affectionate it’s almost embarrassing.  
«You are. Pretty, I mean— beautiful.» he corrects himself.  
«Has Adonis-chan learnt how to praise a woman by our customers?» Arashi teases him. Adonis looks at him, a bit confused and it’s that kind of feeling he is always able to brush off easily. Arashi doesn’t know how he’s able to, but there’s no doubt about the other’s body language – so when Adonis’ hand brushes away their hair to press a light kiss on their forehead, Arashi isn’t really surprised.  
«I don’t praise women.» Adonis says «I praise _you_.»  
The moment he leaves the room, Arashi has to wait before doing the same; they know pretty well how someone from Yoshiwara absolutely can’t show that they’re in love.  
  
However, Arashi totally _adores_ to be able to notice when love is in the air – lovers walking down the street, for example. It’s important to be sensitive about these things, especially because if someone of their cute _kohai_ is going to fall in love Arashi wants to be there to support them, even if “support” means to help the one in love to forget his loved one.  
Most of the times Arashi is right about people. So when this big guy shows at the door of their house, saying something along the line of «I’m looking for someone» with a grumpy face and an embarrassed look, Arashi chuckles while they politely covers their mouth with a hand.  
«Of course you are.» it’s the reply they offer to the guy. Arashi means it in the alluring way, and they try not to be shameless at the same time: it’s a customer they’re talking to, after all.  
«No, really, I’m— I lost my… comrade, and he should be here.» he tries to explain himself. He doesn’t look at ease at all, so Arashi guesses it is his first time in a place like that. The way that guy sneaks a peek at his surroundings it’s cute. He reminds Arashi of a child who expects some scary things to appear out of nowhere. It would be enough to tease him a little, but Arashi doesn’t have the time to: the guy in front of him suddenly stiffens and his eyes wonder to look at something behind them. Before Arashi has the chance to ask what’s the problem, a voice reaches their ears.  
«Arashi-oneesama!» Souma’s voice can’t really be mistaken for someone’s else. When Arashi looks at him, it’s so hard to not burst into a laughter that their shoulders shake: Souma is wearing the clothing he’s supposed to wear – a light green _kimono_ with some little daisies in a soft yellow and with some red veining; his _obi_ has a red background and fantasies of white and gold, with an orange _obi-jime_. The problem is the way Souma wears all of that: the _obi_ isn’t well arranged, and so the _obi-jime_ ; his feet aren’t covered in _tabi_ , and his long hair isn’t tied as they should be. Souma is, by all means, like a beautiful, ornamental flower of their house… he just need some more time before his blooming.  
«Arashi-oneesama!» he repeats, out of breath: «My hair— I tried to tie it up by myself but it is— it has—» Souma tries to explain, totally in panic; this is not something they should show to their customers, so even if Arashi is amused because Souma has never grown up in some aspects, he needs to be scolded because of the guy Arashi was paying attention until now.  
«Souma-chan, this is not appropriated. Where are your manners?» Arashi says, a little movement of their head to point discreetly at their customer. Souma seems to (finally) realized, but instead of going back he kneels and bends his head, his hair falling a bit over his shoulder: «I’m terribly sorry about my shameful and tactless behavior, uhm…» he hesitates, because he doesn’t know that guy’s name. Arashi sighs: Souma is too straightforward. Who would have chosen to stay there, looking like that – something totally different from the _perfection_ they expect from all of them – just to say he’s sorry?  
Still, when Arashi looks at the guy who’s has eyes just for Souma, they notice: that’s something Arashi’s not seen often.  
«…Kiryu. Kiryu Kuro.» the guy says, with his grumpy expression, but with a slight shade of embarrassment: «It’s not shameful. I think.» he tries – at least.  
Arashi covers their mouth with a hand. It’s rare to see outsiders falling in love with people in Yoshiwara but well, sometimes it happens.  


	2. A flower blooming in snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yuzuru is a coward, Kuro doesn't know what 'to flirt' means, Tsukasa discovers that green eyes really exist in Japan and Adonis is the perfect boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry because I know my way of writing seems a big wall-text. I still haven't figured out how to fix it (because it gets really confusing when I leave too much space between sentences @@), but I'll try my best!  
> Thanks for every kudo, comment and bookmark! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter too!

Yuzuru knows he’s not supposed to treat Tori as he used to do during in their childhood. Tori isn’t his young master anymore, he _hasn’t a family_ _name_ anymore – well, he technically has it, he just don’t ( _can’t_ ) use it anymore. The first time Yuzuru met him in Yoshiwara Tori introduced himself as “Tori” and nothing else. It sounded so strange.  
He still remembers how Tori was as a child: spoiled, capricious, and yet gentle in his own way. Yuzuru knows all too well the way everyone used to think of Tori – a child full of himself and full of flaws – and he’d be ready to tell them off anytime as he was in the past. It’s not that he denies it, but Tori’s able to care for other people, he can be kind and sweet; he just doesn’t show it like everyone expect him to do. He can sound rude, and not nice at all, sure… However, Yuzuru likes him, and cares for him, so much that the thought of Tori being in Yoshiwara hurts him and feels unbearable. It almost makes him angry, and he’s known for his patience. That’s one of the reasons why now that he’s able to, he books him every time he can; he knows Tori hates it, because it must be embarrassing for him to have to serve someone who knows where he comes from. And yet, Yuzuru ignores this – ignores how Tori looks at him, full of resentment, how aggressive he is with his words when he talks to him to figure out what’s on Yuzuru’s mind. But what he’s supposed to say? How can he admit he fell in love with his childhood friend before he was sold to the house of pleasures and doesn’t stand the thought of Tori being booked by someone else with such impure intentions? He can’t. He’s a coward. So he keeps making Tori angry at him, without explanations, pretending he doesn’t notice the other’s nervousness.  
Sometimes he indulges with memories of when they were just children and Tori used to treat him like a servant – Yuzuru never disliked it, not because he was prone to act like a spineless person but because he never felt it like an insult: Tori was just a young master and Yuzuru was (he still is) the son of a humble merchant; it probably felt natural for the Himemiya’s heir to think about him as someone who was supposed to serve him. And after all, Yuzuru never admonished him.  
«If you’re bored you’re more than welcome to leave.» Tori’s voice interrupts his thoughts; Yuzuru blinks a couple of times, looking at the other’s face – he’s pouting, but he also has a stern look – and smiles apologetically: «I’m sorry. I was just thinking about our childhood.» he admits. Maybe it can also be considered a lie. Tori looks away, going back to his main occupation: making tea for them both. The room where they usually spend time is one of the brightest, maybe because it faces towards the garden when the _shoji_ are left opened. At the moment they’re not, because the winter breeze is too cold and would make guests uncomfortable; instead there’s a warm temperature and tea sounds great. Yuzuru looks at Tori and it is obvious by the other’s movements, how he’s not really used to serve people: it’s a bit messy, and Yuzuru would probably do a better job but he doesn’t say it. Instead the look in his eyes softens. He makes sure to not show it when Tori finally looks back at him.  
«Here.» he says with arrogance in his voice, extending the cup to him. Yuzuru accepts it and drinks from it – he glances at Tori and he notices a bit of nervousness and expectations on his face. He smiles, sure that the cup of tea does a great job at hiding it from the other.  
«It’s really good . You’ve improved, young master.» he compliments him, and allows himself a little smile. Tori pouts more, cross his arms against his chest: «Obviously. What do you think I do all day if not listen to Arashi’s stupid lessons?» he argues.  
«Arashi-sama is a very good and gentle teacher. I’m grateful.»  
«Are you stupid?»  
«People here take care of you. I can say that knowing that people like Arashi-sama and Tsukasa-sama care for you puts my mind at ease.» Yuzuru admits, drinking his tea. Tori looks at him – Yuzuru pretends he doesn’t notice – and stays silent for a bit.  
«You should really stop.» he says in the end. It’s not what Yuzuru expected. Well, it depends on what Tori’s talking about.  
«About what?»  
«Everything. You should stop coming here and booking me, and you should stop to call everyone who works here adding that stupid “-sama” suffix. It’s rude.»  
«I don’t want to be rude to anyone. It’s the other way around. Wasn’t Tsukasa-sama from a high-located family?» Yuzuru asks, and he would add something more if not for Tori’s sudden look at him: he’s angry, and frustrated: «Exactly, he _was_. I _was_. Now we’re considered in a lower position than any peasant! Are you mocking all of us?»  
Yuzuru stays silent. He never thought it would be rude of him to address them with a polite speech; but he doesn’t intend to stop, and he’s obviously not trying to make fun of them.  
«You know I’m not the kind of person who laughs at others, young master.» he says, serious expression and a bit of scolding in his tone; he’s sure Tori knows he’s said too much by the looks on the younger’s face: «And I’m not going to stop. I respect all of you as human beings, and I don’t care if every single person who comes here looks at you as a property or an object that can be thrown away anytime. I’m not “every single person”.» he says, and he dares to step forward – he never approaches Tori so straight-forwardly and yet this time Yuzuru knows he _has to_.  
«And» he starts again «I don’t see you as an object. I will _never_ see you that way.»  
Tori doesn’t reply, and doesn’t look at him; Yuzuru knows it’s his way to feel sorry, and he knows this could be his chance to tell him why he keeps booking him and looking for him.  
He doesn’t.  
«I’m sorry.»

 

Kuro wonders what his master would think about him being in such an unpleasant situation.  
This time he can’t even blame Tsukinaga Leo – well, the young man _is_ lost somewhere, but that’s not the reason why Kuro is standing in the house of pleasures’ _genkan_. He supposes his intentions are clear, at least to the blond who’s in front of him, the same person who welcomed him last time. Kuro’s sure their name is Arashi, or so he’s heard.  
«So, who would you like to book?» the other asks him, with a polite and amused smile; Kuro knows what a person usually does in a place like this, but he’s not accustomed to it.  
«The person you scolded last time I was here.» he mumbles, trying to figure out the best way to phrase his thought; Arashi doesn’t let him to: «Souma-chan? I’m afraid it won’t be possible. He’s our best dancer, so of course if that’s what you want for tonight we’ll be glad to make a reservation just for you. Unfortunately he’s still training in other activities such as conversations, music, tea ceremony and so on.»  
Kuro tries not to think about the fact that what Arashi means with “so on” is probably sex. He obviously knows there is such possibility, but he coughs and lets the thought slide away from his mind: «I’d like to talk to him.» he admits «It doesn’t matter to me if his training is not finished yet. I’m positive about how real situations help more than any simulation. At least, so it is for the sword.» he explains, never looking away from Arashi’s eyes. The other chuckles, covering their mouth with a hand out of politeness, and then bows their head inviting Kuro to follow them with a simple gesture : «This way, then. I’ll take you to a free room.» Arashi assures, before talking to a person Kuro hadn’t notice until now. He’s a man and he looks almost out of place, wearing plain clothes that make him look like a servant – surely not a _geisha_ – and his skin suggests he’s not Japanese. Kuro has to admits he didn’t even sensed him, and it’s something new for his instincts.  
«Adonis-chan, could you please call Souma-chan and accompany him to the Iris room?» Arashi asks him, with a sweet smile; the other just nods and bows his head (to both Kuro and Arashi) and simply goes away like that.  
Arashi guides him upstairs and then through different hallways, until they reach an empty room; Arashi lets Kuro enter and excuse themselves with a: «Feel free to call if you need something else or if you’re not satisfied.»  
Then Kuro waits: he sits on his knees, straight back and facing the window – the door is on his left, closed. He lets his thoughts wander. It still sounds pretty strange to him, the whole situation with Tsukinaga Leo. The young man is unintelligible and Kuro wouldn’t be able to say if he’s a good person or not; the way Leo talks about his grandfather (Kuro’s former sword-master) it’s unacceptable to him but it’s not like he can’t understand the other must have his reasons too.  
The _shoji_ slides and Kuro stops thinking about it, glancing on his left: Souma is closing the door behind him, already on his knees, and he turns towards him. He seems confused, but he’s trying to not show it too much and then he bows: «Thank you for choosing me, Kiryuu-dono.» he says «I may be still inexperienced but I’m at your service.» he adds. Kuro is sure that’s some sort of catch-phrase taught to all the people of that house since their first day of training. He doesn’t know how guests usually respond, but he doesn’t intend to be rude or arrogant; so he hints a bow too: «I’ll be in your care.» he replies «I’m Kiryuu Kuro. I hope it wasn’t inconvenient of me to ask for you.»  
Judging by Souma’s expression, it’s not the kind of reply he expected from a guest. Still, he doesn’t say anything about it.  
«What would you like to do? I must confess I’m not very confident in my skills apart from dancing.»  
«I know. Your…» how should he address to Arashi? «the person called Arashi already told it to me.»  
«Onee-sama is right.» Souma replies, and Kuro is a bit surprised by the “onee-sama” thing but decides to not ask about it. It doesn’t matter to him what they call each other, it’s not his place to say anything about it. «But I’ll do my best. Would you like some tea?»  
«It would be great.» Kuro accepts his offer, looking at the other while he opens the door again and talks to someone that Kuro can’t see from his position; Souma asks for two cups of tea and some snacks to accompany it, then closes the door and turns to look at Kuro again. They fall into silence. It’s quite obvious how neither of them is used to conversations, even if for different reasons. Kuro takes his time to study Souma: the other wears a kimono, but it’s very different from the last time they met – it’s soberer, mainly blue with some white and yellow abstract decorations. He’s also wearing a red _haori_ , and this time his long hair is perfectly tied with a simple red ribbon.  
«You don’t wear flowers in your hair.» it’s the first thing Kuro says. Souma looks a bit confused, but nods and seems to think for a moment about how to reply: «…would you like it better if I wore them? Like, a flower-shaped hair comb?» he tries. It’s Kuro’s turn to hesitate.  
«I think it would suit you. But, well, it’s not that you have to wear it.» he struggles a bit. This apparently worsens the atmosphere between them.  
«So» he tries again with a little coughing «you like to dance.»  
«And you like swords.» Souma observes «I know they took it from you before letting you enter.» he adds, and Kuro nods.  
«I started practicing my sword skill when I was young. Are you interested?»  
«Yes, I mean… if it’s okay with you to talk about yourself there’s no way I’m not interested about you, Kiryuu-dono!»  
There’s a moment of silence, before Kuro finds himself chuckling against his will: «I was referring to the sword practice, not to myself.»  
«Oh— I’m sorry, I don’t seem to be very good at reading the atmosphere and such.»  
«It’s okay. I want to know more about you, so I suppose we can both gain something from our time together.»    
Souma nods, and fortunately a girlish voice calls for him: he opens the door, takes the tray with their tea and snacks, then closes it again. His movements are graceful and meticulous, yet never unnecessary; while he looks at him Kuro thinks the other would be a pretty gifted swordsman if he could learn how to use a sword. He doesn’t say it, because he’s not too sure how it would sound to Souma. He waits for Souma to serve his cup of tea and then he thanks the other with a little bow of his head. They drink together, in silence for a while until Kuro decides to ask again about the dancing thing that seems one of the few topic they can manage to talk about.  
«Who plays while you dance?»  
«Oh» Souma looks positively surprised by his question, and shows Kuro a little smile: «it’s not always the same person. But I like when Tori-oniisama and Tsukasa-oniisama do it.» he explains, a little sparkle in his eyes.  
«Are they really good?»  
«Absolutely! Tori-oniisama is very skillful with the _shamisen_. Tsukasa-oniisama, even if he started later than many of us, has a unique style and a very graceful way of playing it.» it’s Souma’s response and Kuro can’t help but smile a bit more. He doesn’t speak his thoughts about how he can see the same grace in Souma’s movements, of which the other doesn’t seem to be conscious at all. He promises to himself to tell him some other time.  
«I’d like to hear them play as much as I’d like to see you dance, I think.» he admits. For the first time since they greeted each other, Souma gives him one of the most beautiful and sincere smiles that Kuro has ever seen. It makes his heart skip a beat.  
«I’d love to, Kiryu-dono! I’ll practice more than I’ve ever done so that I’ll be able to show you next time!» he exclaims, too honest and too excited about it to be some kind of act. And it seems so _wrong_ for him to be in Yoshiwara, where everything is a lie.  
«…well» Souma adds, with less enthusiasm «if you will be so kind to honour us with another visit and if you will allow me to keep you company again.» he tries, belittling himself like he’s the worst possible choice.  
Would it be so weird to tell him this is his first time in Yoshiwara? That he has never booked someone before? That he did it just because he was fascinated by Souma the first time he saw him? It would. And Kuro isn’t used to this, neither he’s used to shamelessly say something so daring to someone he’s talking to for the first time.  
«I will.» he decides to tell Souma «I will visit again. And I will ask for you.»

  
Tsukasa has some confidence in his skills. He knows exactly in which areas he needs to train more, and in which he’s good enough to be with some of their guests. Tsukasa is grateful to Arashi because he knows that’s probably thanks to them that he still hasn’t been chosen by their guests for the night-time. So Tsukasa tries his best to improve everything else: he trains with Tori to be sure he masters every sound when he plays the _shamisen_ , he keeps observing how Arashi welcomes and entertains people, he stays focused when he’s allowed to attend Souma’s training. He’s pretty sure the other has a natural talent for dancing but he feels proud of himself when such a good, beautiful dancer asks him to play music for him.  
Tsukasa is pretty sure everyone consider shopping for their House’s needs one of Adonis’ tasks; and yet he’s glad that the other never said anything to him about not going in his stead and that their ma’am has sent him alone this time. Usually Adonis goes by himself and, rarely, accompanies someone from the House. Tsukasa knows that this is the most freedom he’s allowed to have: going out shopping and pretending that’s something he’s decided by himself – not something that someone could deny with just one word.  
He loves Yoshiwara during the day: it doesn’t resemble the one he’s used to see at night, full of red lights and a world made of nothing more than rooms, music, dances and _sake_ ; it’s completely different, with children playing in the streets and so many sounds of a daily life he’s been curious about since he’s been sold. He remembers almost nothing before that.  
«Ah! You’re from Yumenosaki, ain’t you?» it’s what Tsukasa hears while a hand grabs his arm. He jumps a little and looks at the hand, then up until he meets a face and beautiful green eyes. At the beginning, he just stays silent, too surprised by such a colour – well Tori has eyes of the same colour but he thought he would never see the same shade twice, not in Japan at least, but the person in front of him has them and has a pretty hair colour too. He feels his face warming up and decides it’s not a good thing to let a stranger be so familiar with him, so he pulls back. The other lets his arm go and smiles at him, like nothing’s happened and he always calls out for people that way (probably he does it).  
Should he ignore him? Is he someone suspicious?  
«So?»  
«So… what?» Tsukasa asks and regrets it the moment he sees  the other smiling happily, almost as if he’s succeeded in something Tsukasa is not going to question him about.  
«Oh, you can talk, good. I’m Tsukinaga Leo, you’re from Yumenosaki right? I saw you last night, even if just by chance because I was wandering ‘til they found me and gave me a room but— anyway, what’s your name?» he starts chattering and Tsukasa is not sure if Leo _breathes_ at all. Maybe he should leave him there. But, if he really is a guest, wouldn’t be impolite to ignore him? What if the other goes to Yumenosaki tonight and tells Arashi-oneesama about Tsukasa’s behavior?  
«…I am. From Yumenosaki.» he answers, a bit uncertain but with his best polite speech «I’m sorry, I don’t seem to remember you. Is there something I can help you with? Did you have some kind of problem last night… Tsukinaga-sama?» he tries. And Leo laughs at his face.  
«What’s with the formality? Can’t you Japanese people be a bit more… dunno, not so rigid?» he suggests while laughing so hard he reminds Tsukasa of a five years old kid who’s unable to control himself and hasn’t been taught good manners. However, he waits. Because he still doesn’t know what Tsukinaga wants from him – Tsukasa has to inhale and calm himself and repeat in his own mind that Leo’s a customer. Probably.  
«So you’re a newbie right?»  
«What makes you think so?»  
«Well, you’re on an errand? And you seem kinda the guy who does a real mess even when he tries his best because of inexperience!» Leo jokes like they’re friends and Tsukasa _tries really hard_ , but while his mind says “ _aren’t you talking about yourself?_ ”, his mouth lets out a «Come again?» that, he’s to admit, it’s not his best response – it is not what they taught him.  
He coughs and tries to compose himself: «Like you said, Tsukinaga-sama» Tsukasa repeats, because he _needs_ to remind himself of his position «I was on an errand. If there’s nothing you need from me, I—»  
«What’s your name?» Leo interrupts him, still smiling. Well, Tsukasa thinks, he hasn’t answered that question before so if he does, maybe he’ll be excused.  
«Tsukasa.»  
«Tsukasa from Yumenosaki.»  
«…Yeah?»  
«Good.» Leo decides, and starts walking away; he just adds a «See you tonight then!» and waves his hand.  
Tsukasa surely hopes otherwise.     
 

«Tsukasa-chan?» Arashi’s voice reaches him and he looks up from the white powder he’s suppose to apply on his face. That’s something he’s unable to understand, so he always ends up taking some extra time to use it correctly. Arashi is smiling, and then there’s a surprised look in their eyes: «Oh my, you’re still not ready?» it’s how the other addresses him, but it’s not a real scolding, actually. It’s the same tone Arashi has always used with him since they were children and the older one had to teach him everything. Tsukasa smiles, a bit clumsy: «I’m not good with this thing.» he admits, while Arashi’s is sitting in a perfect _seiza_ position in front of him. The blond takes the powder container from his hands and suggests with a little gesture that Tsukasa should leave the task to them.  
«‘This thing’ is called make-up, Tsukasa-chan. It’s important that you learn how to use it so that you can—»  
«Enhance myself and my good features.» Tsukasa ends the sentence and Arashi chuckles, while applying just a bit of the white powder on the younger’s face; Tsukasa closes his eyes.  
«So you do remember the things I tell you.»  
«I do. But it’s not like some make-up will make me more handsome.» he tries. Frankly speaking, he thinks that things like that are good on beautiful people like Arashi; he doesn’t feel the same, though «It’s a bit of a waste, on me.» he admits. Arashi doesn’t reply and, after several moments, Tsukasa knows that the other isn’t moving. So he opens his eyes, just to find Arashi looking at him the same way siblings look at each other when they’re upset about something but not _really_ mad.  
Arashi’s hands are free, the make-up has been abandoned next to him on the _tatami_. Tsukasa looks at that, and then Arashi’s has those same hands on Tsukasa’s face, holding it like there is a chance he’ll run away if Arashi doesn’t keep him from moving.  
«Just because you’re here, it doesn’t mean you’re an object, Tsukasa.» Arashi says, and there’s no hint of amusement in the older’s voice: «And you’re beautiful, you don’t need make-up. Certainly, you’re not a waste. Understood?»  
Tsukasa can count on his hand’s fingers how many times Arashi has called him without adding the _–chan_ to his name: the first time they met, the first time the other scolded him, the first night Tsukasa was scared of Yumenosaki. He knows better than anyone else that Arashi is a really caring person, that they would never abandon someone, that they’re the kind of person who simply aren’t able to not show affection to their important ones. That’s the main reason Tsukasa wants to be better at this, good enough to repay his debt – not the one that would free him, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to; but he wants to repay everything Arashi’s done for him.  
And yet, sometimes, he’s still the scared boy of eight years ago.  
«I’m not an object,» he repeats, slowly «but they sold me.»  
He knows he’s being unfair, that there’s nothing Arashi can do, that it’s nobody’s fault if his parents have done what they have done. So he’s surprised when he sees resolution on Arashi’s face and when he feels Arashi’s lips at the corner of his own. The blond has never kissed him somewhere apart from his cheeks and his fore-head; he knows there’s no meaning behind this – not the meaning of a lover, at least – but Tsukasa can’t help but blush a little.  
«They sold you.» Arashi admits, and then smiles. It’s the first time Tsukasa sees _Arashi_ ’s smile instead of the onee-sama’s one «They don’t deserve you. Maybe we’re not the family you would have chosen if you’d had the chance to do, but we all love you.»  Arashi reminds him, then stands up in order to leave the room. The only two things the other adds before opening the door are: «You’ve been requested.» and «Be sure to be kissed here by someone you really, truly love.»  
Their finger, before Arashi disappears in the hallway, is pointing at their lips.  
  
  
It’s two in the morning when Arashi can finally go back to the room where Tsukasa, Souma and Tori should be already sleeping. They share that same room since ages and it has become the safest place for Arashi. There’s no need to be the perfect lover inside that small place, it’s not important if Arashi doesn’t accommodate their partner for the night and that’s nothing more they could ask for.  
Hallways are quiet and almost dark. Some candles help to light the path enough to move quietly, and one of them is held by Adonis. He almost makes Arashi jump, waiting there without a sound: the dim light makes Adonis’ golden eyes shine and Arashi holds their breath for a moment.  
_Adonis truly is handsome_ , it’s what the blond thinks before giving the other a little smile. Adonis nods and they start walking through the hallway, then downstairs and they are stopped by a voice whispering Arashi’s name.  
«Yes, ma’am?»  
«I have to go outside for a while.» she says, her make-up perfectly applied and her _kimono_ without a single wrinkle. In Arashi’s memories there isn’t a time in which that woman has looked sloppy or anything of the sort: she is always incredibly beautiful and elegant; even now, two in the morning, hours of ‘welcome’ and ‘thanks for your patronage’ on her delicate shoulders. When Arashi was a child and had just arrived there, they thought that woman would’ve hated them. Because at that time Arashi still ‘ _boku_ ’ to refer to themselves and that seemed such a huge difference between them. But she has always been kind: she has taught Arashi everything they know now, she has comforted them every time Arashi was sad and hurt and scared. She’s been a mother figure more than Arashi’s real mother. And she also took in Adonis in the past, when nobody else would have done it.  
She is a good, attentive per—  
«What is the most important thing for us when we are not with our guest, Arashi dear?»  
Arashi looks at her. She haven’t sent Adonis away, so Arashi supposes that is something the other can hear – that’s not the single answer that she wants, this is obvious in Arashi’s eyes.  
«Being invisible.» the blond delivers, because that’s the first thing that woman has taught them – to _all_ of them, because then Arashi has said the same thing to Tori, and Tsukasa, and Souma –, about the importance of being everywhere and anywhere, to be invisible in so many ways Arashi doesn’t know if they’ve mastered all of them. All of them exist to please and entertain their guests, but when they are not needed they have to disappear; while walking in the hallways they don’t make sounds, they are less than shadows, because to those who are in their rooms there shouldn’t be anything else beside what’s inside.  
The outside world doesn’t exist.  
«Right.» she says, pleased «Be sure to be invisible tonight. I’ll be back in the early morning.» she adds, looking from Arashi to Adonis. She addresses him a knowing smile: «You too, Adonis. Be careful.» and then she’s gone. That’s when Arashi _understands_ and can’t help but blush a little. So she’s always known. About them.  
«Are you alright?» Adonis asks, and Arashi turns to face him and looks at him for what feels too long. Is what ma’am has implied the right thing to do? Arashi knows about Adonis’ feelings, and feels horrible because it’s been less than a hour since Arashi’s been with another man. They didn’t go all the way, but it can’t be helped. The first time was when Adonis was just someone who worked there, he was a _friend_ , someone Arashi was teaching how to write, read and speak politely. He wasn’t important. And then that guest kept coming back and still does – and he _pays_ quite well, and Arashi doesn’t believe in fairytales anymore, doesn’t dream about a prince who’ll save them someday.  
It feels so wrong, to spend the night with Adonis, that it makes Arashi sick.  
«Come.» Adonis says, taking Arashi’s hand in his own, leading him through the hallway and behind a corner; he stops when they’re in front of Adonis room. He opens it and lets Arashi enter first, following after and closing the door. He puts the candle where it’s safe, leaving the room slightly lightened: it’s almost empty. There was a time when Adonis shared his space with other attendants, but then he’s become one of the eldest so he now cohabits with the only adult one – that usually escorts ma’am whenever she goes out.  
«I was with a guest.» Arashi blurts out. There’s no need to say it, Adonis knows it better than anyone else, but it makes Arashi feel less guilty. Adonis looks at them, and the blond doesn’t allow the eye-contact.  
«But you left?»  
«He couldn’t stay over.» Arashi murmurs, feeling Adonis’ hand on their cheek in an affectionate touch. It makes their stomach twitch and their heart go faster.  
«Are you all right?» he asks again and Arashi nods, giving him a little smile. Adonis has always been so caring, he has never refused Arashi in any way and the blond feels like they are depriving him of something, even though Adonis is the only man Arashi’s given absolutely everything they was able to.  
«I’m good.»  
«If you’re tired we can…»  
«I’m not.» Arashi whispers, merely a inch from Adonis mouth. The other closes the distance and kiss them – a gentle, loving kiss while his arm wraps around Arashi’s waist and his hand rests on Arashi’s cheek, caressing it gently.  
That’s how things are, how they’ve always been; it’s not a real rule but Arashi’s has made it become the most important one two years ago: _I’ll give a lover kiss to anyone but him_.


End file.
